


-- losing you

by shuckit



Category: Anastasia (1997), Anastasia - Flaherty/Ahrens/McNally
Genre: F/M, angsttttt, i wrote this during exam week, im so sorry, its tiny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-15 15:49:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17531660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shuckit/pseuds/shuckit
Summary: Anastasia AU: After arriving in Paris, Dmitry starts making subtle moves towards Anya. She must grapple with being loved for the first time since losing everyone that ever mattered to her. . .





	-- losing you

**Author's Note:**

> this was a suggestion from my dear pal lizzy ! it's tiny and very anticlimatic i'm sorryryryfj ALSO i don't know why the paragraphs aren't working i'm : annoyed

**Paris, 1927**

There was a strange, whimsical feeling in the air. And Anya didn’t like it, however much she tried to.  
Lamp posts and their hazy glow filled the Paris streets, accompanied with the smoke of cigarettes. Finely dressed women and men fluttered around like birds, babbling to each other in French. Anya could speak the language, although she could not remember ever learning it, and was entranced by their careless abandon, their fashion, their romance. Anya had been so occupied with reaching this place, so lost in the dreams of her future, she’d almost forgotten how different Paris would be than Russia.  
She’d bought a white dress to fit in with her surroundings - the smooth fabric hugged her waist and fit her frame like a glove. It was entirely different than the scratchy coat she’d worn to hide from the Russian cold. And it was a stark reminder that things were very different now. There was no going back.  
The strange feeling hovering in her chest was only magnified when she looked at Dmitry. He was like a wide-eyed boy in Paris, full of curiosity and amazement. And he had showered, too. A French rose was tucked into the pocket of his elegant suit. His dark hair smoothed back. A ruddy glow to his cheeks. She would have barely recognized him if not for the sharp cut of his jaw and the look he held in his eyes - those hazel eyes had seen far more than a young man should.  
And, on top of it all, he was acting quite differently. Whenever he caught Anya’s gaze, he’d flash a grin. There was no rudeness in his remarks, no arrogance in his features, no mocking. It seemed as if, for only a moment, he’d forgotten the bickering relationship they shared. It was as if - she didn’t like to admit it, - he cared about her. Somewhere, hidden beneath that dark ebony suit, in the hollow of his chest.  
Yes. That was what Anya didn’t fancy at all. His sudden, unabashed affection. Their relationship had been absolutely fine the way it was. She could handle his stubborn, and idiotic personality but this? This was a little much.  
Anya had lost everyone who remotely cared about her. Whether she was the Duchess Anastasia or not, her family was gone all the same. If she’d had a lover before, he or she was no longer a part of her life. Or her memories. They were gone in every single way. And she refused to allow anyone to care about her in that way ever again. She’d seen what could happen to those she loved and the pain that ensued and she never, never, wanted to repeat that.  
“Anya.”  
Jolted from her thoughts, Anya tore her gaze away from the bustling street, her gaze finding Dmitry’s. Held in his large hands was a swathe of rose gold fabric. Anya looked away.  
“Anya?”  
“What?” She tried to summon annoyance into her voice. Dmitry, please, she internally pleaded. Please don’t. But as her gaze found his again, she could identify the obvious hurt written across his features.  
“Why aren’t you happy?” He stumbled over his words a bit as they tripped off his tongue. “I thought you wanted to be here. Isn’t this what you’ve dreamed of?”  
Anya swallowed. She wished she could tell him that she was happy. More than anything. There was simply a problem she didn’t know how to fix and it had everything to do with the way he gazed at her, concern lurking in his golden brown eyes.  
“I’m tired,” she murmured. “It’s been a long day, I- I’d rather be alone.”  
His eyebrows furrowed. He gently stuck out his hands, the fabric lying there. “Okay. But first,-”  
“No.” Anya looked away again, not wanting to see his gift, the elegant dress held in his arms. She didn’t want to know that when looking through the expensive Paris shops, she had popped into his mind.  
“Anya,” his rough voice was laced with a tone she’d never heard from him before. “Listen, I bought you something. Just take it and I’ll leave you alone.”  
“I don’t want it.” She snapped, internally wincing with pain as she said it. She needed to detach his feelings, resume to their partnership rather than friendship, before something happened. Before she hurt him even more than she was hurting him now. She could not allow herself to love or be loved. Not after everything that happened. She wouldn’t be able to bear losing someone. And frankly, it was Dmitry specifically she was afraid to lose.  
There was a frown written across his features. He swallowed sharply and nodded, any emotion that had crossed his face, entirely vanishing. Replaced with a blank slate. “I get it.” He lifted his chin, boldly staring at her. “Your plan the whole time was Paris. And only Paris. Now that we’ve got you here, that’s the end of it. We’ll get you to the Dowager and we’ll be on our way.”  
He turned and disappeared in the bustle of beautiful shops and swirling Parisians, leaving Anya with the aftertaste of regret and a deep sadness. But this was what she had to do. She lifted her chin and did her best to ignore the silent tear that fell. 


End file.
